To Err, To Forgive
by OldSFfan
Summary: Cuddy comes back to Princeton to confront House. AU one-shot, post Season 8.


I don't own House or Wilson, or Cuddy, and this fiction is not intended to violate the owners' copyrights. How did Cuddy come back into House's life, post Season 8? This is a sequel to my story, "Letters to Lisa" and a prequel to "At Last," "Writers Block" and "Visiting Day."

* * *

To Err, to Forgive

The intercom from the loft's lobby buzzed, right on time. Wilson pressed the button. "James, it's me, Lisa."

"Come on up, Lisa," Wilson told her, as he pressed the button to open the door. He looked over at House, who was sitting on the edge of his chair and bouncing his cane, an image of distress.

"This isn't a good idea," House complained.

"She wants to see you," Wilson countered. "It's great. You should have cleared the air before…well, you know, before."

"Wilson," he whined, as the knock on the door interrupted him. He climbed to his feet.

Cuddy was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She looked younger and more open, no professional power statement, she was just Cuddy. He let his breath go. He half expected her to raise her hand and say, 'I come in peace.' The silly picture calmed him.

Wilson and Cuddy exchanged hugs. "You are so thin," Cuddy scolded Wilson, as she stepped back to look at him, still holding his hands.

"That's what House says. It beats being dead."

"Yes, it does." She gestured at the Philadelphia Phillies ball cap on his hairless head. "Nice hat."

Wilson shrugged. "Keeps me warm. And you are still beautiful. Washington agrees with you. How's Rachel?"

"She's growing so fast. You know, she can read a few words now."

"Wow."

They separated and turned to House. 'And here I am,' he thought, 'the elephant in the room.'

"Cuddy," he said, "I'm sorry."

They looked at each other stiffly. The silence dragged on. Finally, Wilson said, "Look, I'll just leave so you can talk."

House and Cuddy said, "No!" simultaneously.

Wilson spread his hands in a peacemaking gesture and sat down at the other end of the sofa.

Cuddy stepped forward and before either man could react she slapped House across the face, hard. His head rocked back and he grabbed his cane as he staggered to keep his balance.

"Now, we can talk," she said, and sat down on the chair by the sofa.

"Are you done hitting him?" Wilson asked, disapproval in his voice.

"For now."

"She kind of owed me that, Wilson," House said, hand over his left cheek. "You hit me after I got out of prison, remember." When he dropped his hand, a trickle of blood ran down in the middle of the hand-shaped red area over his cheekbone.

"Oh, no, my ring scratched you," Cuddy cried. She jumped to her feet. "Wilson, where do you keep your first aid stuff?"

"In the bathroom," Wilson gestured at the guest bathroom. "I'll get it." He returned with a home kit in a small box.

"Let me do it," Cuddy said, taking the supplies from Wilson. "Sit," she ordered House.

"Cuddy, don't," he protested, looking down on her. She was wearing sneakers instead of heels. He towered over her.

"Just do what I tell you for a change," she ordered him.

House sat on the sofa. She mopped up the trickle of blood and looked at the scratch. "Not too much damage. You're still taking blood thinners?"

"Yeah."

"That's why it's still bleeding. It shouldn't need a bandage, once the blood stops." She pressed a gauze pad against the wound. "Hold it," she ordered him. He slid his hand over the gauze. His fingers brushed hers. They both started. He breathed in the flowery scent of her perfume.

Primly, Cuddy turned on her heel and returned to her chair. She waited for Wilson to sit down but he wouldn't. Instead he paced around the room near the window. Finally she turned back to House. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"You owe me an explanation, House. You drove your car into my dining room. Why?"

He rested his forehead on the grip of his cane.

"House."

He looked up at her, eyes filled with misery. "I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"Cuddy, please. I went to prison for it. I'm going to go back. Isn't that enough?"

"You drove into my house and handed me that damned hairbrush, and then you left without saying anything else. House, talk to me," she pleaded. "I know you're sorry. You wrote me those letters. You paid to fix up my house. But you never said why!"

"Lisa, I was out of my mind. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"That's not good enough. You could have killed me. You could have killed Rachel."

House kept worrying his cane. The silence stretched out. She stood up. "I'm wasting my time," she muttered.

"Wait," House said. "Let me try. It's hard. I was pretty high, you know. It's all kind of blurry. I saw you all leave the dining room." She stood there, waiting. "You said you weren't seeing anyone," he said.

"I wasn't."

"I was just going to return your hairbrush. But there was that guy sitting with you and your sister and her husband. And you were laughing."

Cuddy thought back. "Oh, you mean Jerry."

"Is that his name?"

"I wasn't seeing him. My sister was shoving him at me, but I wasn't interested."

"Oh."

"That's not good enough, House. 'Oh,' is not good enough."

"I was stuck, stuck loving you, and you were moving on, and I was so desperate and so angry."

Cuddy bowed her head. "I know. And I'm sorry." She stood and walked over to him. "House, remember that night we first, well, that night after the crane collapse."

"How could I forget it?"

"Remember I said that I loved you, and I wished I didn't?"

"I remember everything from every time we were together."

Cuddy caught her breath. The depth of that statement, the sheer romanticism of it, stunned her. Determined, she went on, "Well, that was a terrible thing for me to say. I always treated you like that. I always treated you like you were on probation when we were together. I've spent so much time, trying to think about what happened to us. I never let you get comfortable with me. Everything was a test, a test I expected you to fail."

"Cuddy, don't blame yourself. I'm not a very comfortable person to be around. Ask Wilson."

Wilson stopped pacing and looked at her intently. "House is my brother and he saved my life," he said, voice nearly vibrating with conviction.

"Don't be a sap, Wilson," House muttered.

"It's true," Wilson declared.

House shrugged.

Cuddy went on, "I came to clear the air. I need you in my life." She smiled shyly. "Well, I need Wilson and you two are sort of a package deal. Can we at least be friends again?"

"Friends is the last thing I want to be with you," House told her. "I said that before."

"I know," she said. She stood in front of him, looking down on his hunched back. "But for now, it's all I can manage."

"For now?" House picked up on what she said.

"For now. But I want to help keep you out of prison this time. Wilson, either you order pizza or I'll have to leave." She grinned. "Or I'll order salads all around."

"He can't eat pizza or salad without throwing up," House interrupted, taking some satisfaction in it when her face fell.

"Oh, I'm sorry Wilson. I didn't realize…"

"I can eat it. I just have to order carefully; everything smells weird since I started chemotherapy. House is just pulling your chain. Can I trust you two while I make the call?"

"You mean whether she'll hit me again, or whether I'll start ripping her clothes off?"

Wilson was used to House. "Try not to do either. I'll be right here, remember." He walked to his jacket hanging in the front closet to retrieve his cell phone and went to the kitchen end of the great room to order.

"I should have had you committed when you left the hospital after the surgery on your leg," she told him.

"On what grounds?"

"Oh, I don't know. You were out of your mind. You had done surgery on yourself. You checked yourself out of the hospital while your wound was still seeping, against medical advice. And don't tell me that was all right because you're a doctor. You seemed to have left your brain at the emergency room door and forgot to pick it up."

"I figured out what was wrong with my patient," he barked, with the anger rising in him, but this was Cuddy, and she was here and she was talking to him. He deflated. "I know. I kind of proved I was a little crazy, didn't I? Or at least, my judgment was faulty."

"Faulty makes it sound like a bad electrical outlet. Yeah, you proved your judgment was faulty. I wish you'd have talked to me when you got back from wherever you went, after, you know."

"Fiji. I walked on a beach, and drank a lot, and thought about physics."

Cuddy broke into a smile. "Physics?"

"Well, dark matter. I thought I'd get a Ph.D. in physics and study dark matter. Figured I'd never practice medicine again."

"Only you, House. But you have to get your license back. Like you said, you saved that patient. I'll testify to the Board for you. You have to go back into practice." She looked down at her shoes for a moment. "You're still using, aren't you?"

"Can't detox while Wilson needs me. I'll try to, before I go back to prison. That's not a nice place to do it."

"But you're going to detox?"

House looked up and met her serious gaze. "Yes, I will. Cuddy, I'll always be an addict, at least as long as my leg hurts. I'll relapse, and I'll detox. You know that."

"I know. Believe me, I know that." Cuddy started playing with one of her curls, as she always did when she was nervous. House recognized the gesture. "When are you going to have to go to prison?" she asked.

House shook his head. "I'm out on bail now. Notice the charming jewelry." He stuck his left leg out and pulled up his jeans to expose the ankle monitor. "There will be a hearing or a trial on the new charges. I'll have to go back sooner than I'd like, probably, and for longer than I'd like. Wilson called Stacy and she found me a good criminal attorney. I'm consulting at Princeton Plainsboro, since I can't practice. Would you believe it? Foreman is backing me."

"What will you do for pain?"

"Wilson's got me in a pain management program now. I'll deal with it."

"Are you getting any counseling?"

"I thought I'd sit in with all the bald people in Wilson's cancer support group."

"House!" Wilson barked.

House shrugged. "At the rate I'm losing my hair, why not?" he muttered. "I'm seeing Nolan again. I'm in a mandatory anger management group every week. I see a pain management team. Hardly any time left to sleep or eat."

She took a deep breath, and was interrupted by the buzzer. "Must be the pizza," Wilson said, and buzzed the delivery boy in. They paused for the homey tasks of clearing a place on the coffee table and setting up napkins and drinks. Wilson carefully distributed coasters to go under the glasses. House would have loved a beer, but Wilson couldn't drink any, and under his bail requirements, neither could he, so he stuck to orange soda. Wilson and Cuddy drank ginger ale.

"I have to go, soon," Cuddy said. "I have to get back to Maryland to pick up Rachel at daycare. It's nearly a three-hour drive." She toyed with her pizza. "Can I come back to see you both?"

"We'd love to see you, Lisa," Wilson told her.

"House?" she asked.

He looked up at her. "Are you sure you want to?"

Their eyes met again, while House cursed himself for an emotional fool, but he couldn't look away.

"I'm sure," she said firmly. And he sighed in relief and relaxed against the back of the sofa.

Wilson spoke for both of them. "Good."

"And I will testify at your hearing."

House couldn't help asking, "For me or against me?"

"You're such an ass," Cuddy muttered. "For you, of course."

House looked down, thoroughly uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said.

The silence was really uneasy now. Cuddy rose. "Well, I'd better get going. It's a long drive, bad traffic and all." She stood and picked up her purse.

House looked up. "Call when you get home?"

Startled by his unusual request, she asked, "Are you worried about me?"

"Like you said, long drive, bad traffic."

"This from the man who drove his car into my dining room?" House hung his head, too embarrassed to look at her. He was surprised when she stepped over to him and kissed his injured cheek. "I'm sorry."

He looked up into her beautiful blue-gray eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do. We both do. All three of us, actually. But we're going to make it right." Cuddy gave Wilson a hug and kissed his cheek. "You take care of each other." And in a swirl of her perfume, she was out the door and gone.

End


End file.
